


Shadows Of The Past Yet Loom

by wedgetail



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Brother Feels, Brothers, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Speech Disorders, Stuttering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:28:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24207463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wedgetail/pseuds/wedgetail
Summary: Thor thought he had grown out of his childhood stutter long ago, but to his distress, the speech impediment resurfaces shortly after he's crowned as king of Asgard. Loki tries to cheer Thor up.[set between Ragnarok and Infinity War]
Relationships: Loki & Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 99





	Shadows Of The Past Yet Loom

It began with one word. Or rather, the hesitation that preceded it.

The pause between “Good morning” and “Bruce” was a fraction too long as Thor registered the hard B sticking around his mouth — like dried jam clinging to the corners of his lips — and cringed away from the inherent, tactile nastiness of it, but forced the word through nonetheless. Bruce’s name came out with a clear, ugly, triple repetition of the B.

Thor gave it no further thought. Everyone stuttered and stammered sometimes. Besides, as far as he could tell, Bruce had been preoccupied with pouring out a glass of water for himself and hadn’t even noticed that Thor had misspoken.

Except, that dodgy B wasn’t a one-off. Bruce was a morning person and he liked a good chat over breakfast as much as he liked the food. Ordinarily, Thor was much the same, but as they worked through their meals, he found himself less and less aware of the plate in front of him and increasingly focused on the sounds coming out of his mouth. Or, to be precise, what was failing to come out of his mouth. He gave up on “Bruce” — the mere thought of that B had the muscles in his neck tightening up. And the letter P was no more cooperative, both at the start and in the middle of words, which was doubly infuriating.

Infuriating and, at the same time, left his chest seizing up with cold dread and humiliation. He was a full-grown adult, a warrior whose name was known across many worlds and the newly crowned King of Asgard. He couldn’t go about sounding like a frightened child. The stuttering and the stammering and the overly long silences had been embarrassing enough back when he actually had been a frightened child.

And yet, as he emptied his glass and rose from the table, he fell apart once again, “Ah, are you still going to b-b-be at the council me-meeting….” There he caught himself. He felt the next word block approaching on the letter T in “today” and hurried to dodge it. “Uh, that is, this afternoon?”

“If you think my presence will be useful, I’ll be there. But, Thor, are you all right?” Bruce replied. He straightened his back and peered up at Thor with a searching expression.

Thor shrugged and fervently hoped that he wasn’t blushing. Of course, Bruce had noticed that Thor sounded like a halfwit this morning. Anyone in possession of a working pair of ears would have noticed. “I’m fine. Just fine,” Thor said quickly. “See you later then.”

_What, in all the worlds, is wrong with me today?_

# # #

Had it been only Bruce and the rest of Thor’s circle of friends listening to him, he might not have cared overly much about the chaotic whims of his throat and mouth. He might have even tolerated Loki mocking his faltering speech patterns with a fake smile and a light-hearted smack across the back of Loki’s shoulders. But the ship was full of Asgardians who looked to him for leadership and guidance. And they expected him to act and sound like a king.

He spent the morning listening to petitioners seeking resolutions on the plethora of arguments and complaints that had arisen in the cramped, poorly provisioned quarters of the ship. Few outright told him all he needed to know. His father had made him give similar audiences many times when he had started grooming Thor for leadership outright and Thor knew the tricks to getting real answers from the petitioners. In theory, anyway. Every time he tried to ask a question he needed an answer to, he sweated over whether the question would descend into a mess of barely coherent stutters and stretched out pauses.

And he did stutter, and he did stop in mid-sentence to make emergency substitutions. Some words just got stuck; there was nothing to be done about it. Thus, “today”, “tonight” and “tomorrow” were all out of the inventory entirely. “This afternoon”, “this evening”, “the next day” and “the following day” had to suffice Thor, no matter how clunky the resulting sentences sounded.

The worst was, he palpably felt the judgement of the petitioners and the gathered audience. The confused, the irritated, the pitying looks — all focused on him. Odin had never sounded like this. Nor had Bor. Nor had Loki, for that matter. Thor dropped his eyes to the glossy, slippery floor and dug up all the age-old tricks he had learned long ago.

_Switch out the words you don_ _’t trust._

_Take a breath before you speak._

_It_ _’s safer to start with a vowel than a consonant._

_Speak quickly — the quicker you_ _’re done, the less opportunity to mess up._

Thor sucked in a breath. “Um,” he mumbled. “Next case, please.”

By the time the petitions were done with, Thor was ready to lock himself in a closet and not come out until his treasonous mouth started cooperating with his brain once more. But, there was a distinct lack of available closets on the Statesman and someone was bound to make enquiries into the whereabouts of their king. He hurried instead to the dining hall. Food, unlike people, didn’t demand conversation and didn’t judge him on all the ways he failed to live up to the ideal of Asgardian kingship.

But getting to the food required speaking. A portly, grey-haired woman who had worked at the palace since before Thor was born stood between him and the comforting embrace of his lunch.

She smiled at him as he approached and asked, “Your majesty, how do you do? What would you like today? There’s stir fry or there’s soup. Or perhaps some of both?”

He would have liked to take up the last option, but there was that infuriating B at the beginning of “both”, so that was out. And soup didn’t appeal. Frankly, he craved a good chunk of boar meat, but the Asgardians presently weren’t in a position to be choosy. 

“St—” he began and cut himself off.

He gritted his teeth, hardly believing that he could get stuck on “stir fry”. The initial “st” combination didn’t fit the pattern of the words he had been struggling with through the morning. But then, physicians who claimed to be experts on the subject matter, said that most of the time there was no rhyme or reason to the stuttering.

Still, Thor wasn’t keen to try again. He motioned toward the steaming tray of stir fry and muttered a hurried thank you when the woman handed him his plate.

The stir fry, at least, was delicious.

# # #

Thor followed the path of the three deep scratches that ran in parallel across the breadth of the otherwise pristine table. In places, the scratches looked to be half an inch deep. Something violent had happened here.

Several possible scenarios came to mind. Thor all but lost himself in contemplating which one was the most likely and whether his brother had been involved until Dagnar, one of the Asgardian elders on this ad-hoc council, raised his voice and blurted out, “His majesty would never agree to this.”

“Dagnar, you don’t get to speak for his majesty,” one of the other elders responded.

Sucking in a deep breath, Thor tugged his chin up and brought his eyes level with the eye-lines of the others in the room. It was true — Dagnar had no right to speak on his king’s behalf. It was equally true that presently his king was hardly capable of speaking for himself. And the king had nothing to say in any case. He had been too preoccupied with the scratched tabletop to follow the trail of the conversation going on around him.

“Well, your majesty, what is your opinion on this?” Dagnar asked.

“Ah,” he replied. There had been nothing hostile in Dagnar’s question, but Thor itched to be a million miles away from the Statesman nevertheless. “Aaah, my opinion on…?”

“Re-rigging the on-board systems to pump more energy into the shields,” Brunnhilde said, clearly unimpressed at the fact that she’d had to offer up this explanation.

“You know ships,” Thor said. He didn’t dare to venture near the sounds of her name, so he got straight to the point. “Do as you think b-b— is correct.”

Several around the table pursed their lips or shook their heads. Whether it was a response to his decision or the fact he had clearly made that decision without hearing any of the arguments around it, he didn’t know. Thankfully, at least, no one sought to argue further and the conversation moved onto the next topic of concern — the impurities in the ship’s water filtration system.

As dry as the subject was, it sparked an involved discussion, engrossing everyone save Thor and Loki, who only nodded along without any sign of real interest. Instead, his attention was fixed on Thor and his lips were set in a deep frown. It was unnerving. Thor was thoroughly unused to be at the centre of his brother’s interest like this — as if he was a puzzle Loki had yet to figure out. Ordinarily, Loki was of the opinion that he had learnt everything there was to learn about Thor back when they were still sharing a crib.

Thor cleared his throat and attempted to establish the one thing he needed to know, “W-w-w-what can —”

“What can be done?” Brunnhilde cut in when Thor failed to come up with a detour around the B stuck on his lips. “Nothing. We just don’t have the equipment with us to add an additional set of filters.”

“Actually, I think I can re-purpose what we have,” Bruce said and launched into a lengthy explanation of what he needed to set up the system he proposed.

Thor attempted to follow Bruce’s argument, but he was not technically minded on the best of days and Loki was still staring at him, which was endlessly distracting. Loki’s frown had deepened; it almost looked like concern.

On one hand, anger stirred at that — Thor had no need of Loki’s pity. On the other, the thought of Loki being concerned loosened the cold ball of nervous tension in the pit of his chest a little. Loki seldom showed open affection for his family, particularly in recent years. But, of course, there was no guarantee the expression on Loki’s face was genuine. Thor had accepted of late that it was safer to assume every action Loki took was for his own benefit; it made the consequent betrayals easier to spot.

And that thought sent Thor in a direction he didn’t want to venture; he had enough on his mind already. But his mind was growing as rebellious as his tongue and mouth. He spent the rest of the meeting struggling to follow the discussion while also reflecting on the fact that his brother was potentially the most dangerous entity on the ship.

When he did manage to push those anxieties to the background, Thor attempted to bring up the questions he had about the meeting’s agenda, but Ws were increasingly slipping out of his control and most questions he wanted to ask involved at least one W that he couldn’t manoeuvre his way around. By the meeting’s end, Thor gave up on contributing anything save for grunts and one-word replies. Those could go a long way when used diligently.

As the meeting attendees filed out, however, Thor realised that the “yes” and “no” he had sprinkled liberally over the past quarter of an hour wouldn’t do.

“Loki,” he called out. He was heartened that his brother’s name came out clear and unhesitating, but the next word on his tongue was “wait” and any word starting with W was potentially a traitor at this point. Hurriedly, he amended to “hold on” and slumped back into his chair.

Silence lingered between the brothers until everyone else was out of earshot.

“It’s not nearly as bad as you’re making it out to be in your head,” Loki said. “The stutter that is.”

Thor scoffed. It was more than bad enough and Loki had no idea just how hard Thor had to work to make sure he stuttering and the stammering didn’t wholly consume his speech. Frankly, it was exhausting. More exhausting even than he remembered.

“Is this your doing?” Thor demanded.

Loki brindled. “Why would I do that? What’d be the purpose?”

As far as Thor was concerned, just because something didn’t make sense to him, it didn’t mean it didn’t make perfect sense to Loki. He had given up on trying to understand the chaos in his brother’s head long ago.

While Thor was attempting to put what he had to say into a workable collection of words, Loki must have realised Thor was unconvinced. He added, “I’ve no more idea why stuttering happens than any of Asgard’s healers or scholars ever did. And I can’t well make something happen when I don’t understand the underpinning construction to it. That’s not how magic works.”

That did sound reasonable and Thor had no counter-argument to make, so he didn’t see how he could press the question. But Loki’s words also did nothing to alleviate his misery. A magic curse would have been an explanation and a beacon of hope — curses could be lifted.

“C-could it be someone else’s spell?” Thor asked, fiddling with the hangnail at his thumb. “Or, uh, do you think I’m ill? M-m-maybe Hel w-w-when… you know, the eye?”

Loki drew his brows together and pulled up a chair next to Thor’s. “An eye isn’t so far from the brain, yes, and while it is an uncommonly small one, I do believe you are still in possession of one. However —”

“The…” Thor tried to avoid the next block, but the only alternative he could come up with was “too late” and that didn’t convey what he wanted to say even if he did manage to get it out past his lips. He sucked in a breath and reminded himself that Loki had heard him sound like this a million times before. “The, uh, t-t-t-t-timing isn’t right, is it? If Hel c-caused the damage, it w-w-would’ve shown up…earlier. You’d be able to tell, no?”

“Certainly, Thor,” Loki replied in a soft tone and Thor got the sense he had wanted to say something else, but decided to mollify Thor instead. He leaned forward and rested his fingers against Thor’s forehead, his thumb just brushing along the edge of Thor’s eye patch. “I’ll be careful, but no promises.”

_Hel stands above his crouched form, behind her the window grills illuminate the throne of Asgard with a harsh, cold light. She draws her arm back and strikes out. Pain consumes his face._

_“Here’s the difference between us. I’m Odin’s firstborn, the rightful heir, the saviour of Asgard. And you’re nothing.”_

_Sultur is a mountain of fire. He brings his sword down and cascades of crimson flames pour out in every direction until all is fire. Ragnarok. It_ _’s all as it was meant to be. It’s the most obscene thing Thor has ever seen._

Thor pulled back; he had no desire to relive that day. But Loki grabbed him by the shoulder and held him in place even as he dug deeper into Thor’s mind. Blurred images, distorted sounds and unidentifiable, acrid smells flashed by. Loki let out a dissatisfied huff and dug further.

_“Look at yourself in the mirror and say it again. Repeat it a thousand times if you must. However, long it takes until you can get the words out without faltering,” Odin says as he shakes his head in frustration._

_Thor, too much of a coward to look even himself in the eye, locks his gaze on the mirror_ _’s ornate gilded frame and tries it again, “I-I am Thor, son of Odin and P-p-prince of… As-Asgard.”_

_He doesn_ _’t need to turn around and look up at his father to know his father is disappointed, so he repeats the words again and again. He’s only getting worse at it. By the time the dwarven delegation arrives, he probably won’t be able to say his own name._

_Thor groans._ _“C-can’t Loki…intr-r-roduce b-b-both of us?”_

_“No, Thor, he can’t. Come on try it again.”_

Loki sharply veered away from that image as if he was flinching away from an open flame and grasped for a different memory.

_“I cannot give you my blessing nor can I wish you good fortune. If I were proud of the man my son had become, even that I could not say. It would speak only —”_

“Loki,” Thor muttered and the tumult of memories cut out, to be replaced by the blue-tinted lights of the spaceship. Thor pushed his chair back and adjusted his eye patch. “That w-w-was you speaking, no?”

“It was,” Loki conceded.

“Should’ve known. You…uh, said everything I w-w-wanted t-to hear. He w-w-wouldn’t have.”

Loki was silent for a long moment, perhaps deciding on which witty and biting retort he should offer up, but then decided against any of them. Tapping his fingers along the tabletop, he said, “There’s no curse and no lingering physical trauma. From what I can see, this bout of stuttering is no different to instances when you had flare-ups while we were growing up. It’ll pass in a day or two, I expect.”

“It’s been centuries!” Thor spat out and was no less surprised at his raised voice than Loki was.

Yet he was unrepentant. The stuttering and stammering had eased as he and Loki grew older. By the time they were starting to do combat training with steel weapons, those who hadn’t known Thor in his earliest years could spend months in his company without noticing his speech impediments. There had been times when the stutter returned for a time, but Thor couldn’t recount a single relapse as debilitating and humiliating as the one upon him today.

“I know,” Loki said gently. “But you always tended to get worse when there was a lot on your mind.”

“It’s not— C-c-could…” Thor sighed. That was not the first hard C he had messed up, which left him nervous that this was another letter slipping out of his control. “Uuuh, c-c-could you t-try again? M-make sure?”

“Thor, listen to me. Our mother is dead, our father is dead, our home-world is cosmic dust and you are the newly crowned king of the people who yet remain. Hogun, Volstagg and Fandral are dead. Sif is somewhere out among the galaxies, perhaps we’ll see her again and perhaps not. You’re not a person who can shrug all of that aside. I’m not sure, in fact, there is such a person out there.”

“You’re fine.”

Loki made a quick triple-tap against the tabletop with his thumb. “But I’m not, very much not. And neither are you. This stuttering is everything that’s inside your head starting to spill out because it has nowhere else to go.”

_I was dealing with it until the stuttering started._

Thor shook his head. “And w-what am I supposed to do? You w-want to b-b-b-be king for a…day?”

In truth, the notion tempted Thor. One wave of his hand and Loki would wear Thor’s face, as he had worn their father’s face. Loki had often ended up speaking on Thor’s behalf when they were little. He would speak on Thor’s behalf again now. And perhaps it wasn’t the worst decision Thor could make — Loki had ruled Asgard for two years while impersonating their father and Ragnarok hadn’t started until Thor returned to Asgard and exposed Loki’s lies.

“Let’s spar,” Loki said.

“You hate sparring?”

“And you love it,” came Loki’s immediate reply. He shrugged his shoulders. “What did you do on Asgard when you wanted to blow off some steam. You went hunting with those knucklehead friends of yours, or you sparred with them. A spaceship isn’t equipped for hunting nor are your old training partners about. But I’m here. So let’s spar.”

“You sure? Um, all right then.”

“All right,” Loki echoed, amusement playing on the corners of his mouth.

As they clambered up and set their chairs back into their proper positions, Thor swallowed the lump in his throat. He reached out to rest his hand on Loki’s shoulder and although he had intended to do nothing more than that, the next moment he found himself drawing his brother into a tight hug.

“Thank you.”

Loki, to Thor’s surprise, made no attempt to squirm out of the embrace. Instead, he snorted and muttered, “Someone needs to be around to talk sense into you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for checking out the fic. This one was an attempt at fluff (a failed one?) and an experiment to test run how to run a character with a stutter, but it ended up touching on Thor’s psychological breakdown between Ragnarok and Endgame, which was fun. Just want to note, also, that this fic is not meant to represent every person with this sort of speech disorder. Everyone experiences and deals with it differently.


End file.
